Last Woman Standing
by DocteureCrane
Summary: Rick has to save Daryl and his people from the Governor but he needs her help.
1. Chapter 1

**Nobody has written a Richonne fic so I took matters into my own hands! I don't know how many chapters this will be, but that all depends on how good you guys think it is? So please review?**

"Where were you all this time?" The one they call Rick whispers to her angrily.

They are not even halfway back to the prison yet and it is as dark as death in the forest. Woodbury was behind for at least a few kilometers but none of them dares to make a noise.

"Had business to attend to." Michonne replies quietly.

She doesn't know him enough to specify anything. She can tell he was the alpha of the group but packs function with trust and she is not one of them.

They cannot see each other and none of them is foolish enough to use a flashlight. She walks behind him while the Asian man and the other girl precede them.

"What kind of business?" He presses on. "If you're going to stay with us, you'll need to talk a lot more."

"I took you to them, didn't I?" She repeats, feeling the frustration climb to her head.

The Governor has already done enough. Her body is weaker than usual. Her skin is crippled with shards of glass in various places. Her leg still hasn't recovered properly. Her instinct for survival urges her to go on but she cannot endure anymore of these interrogations.

Rick seems to get it. The questions stop. They are going at an unbelievably slow pace, considering that guy's injuries. She is not at her best either but the road is still far, that is if they ever manage to reach it in that darkness. The Governor's men have not manifested themselves but that does not mean they were safe. She wonders briefly what her best option is, if ever those fuckers catch up with them.

The two in the front will stand no chance; that, she knows. Yet, the thought of leaving them to those ignoble men bothers her. She has helped to rescue them and it seems stupid not to stick with them until the very end. As for Rick, he looks like the kind of man who would sooner die than watch his own friends do.

_Strength in number,_ she thinks, convincing herself. That was the only option.

**They reach the prison unharmed. **Michonne follows Rick, katana back in its scabbard, while the injured one was being taken care of by the same old man who had stitched her wound. The prison is as chaotic as Woodbury. There are new faces, locked outside like she had been. She does not know whether to feel good or not about being allowed in their space.

He motions for her to follow him, so she does.

He takes her to an empty cell, one on top of the stairs. It is darker in there and it smells of dankness and mould.

"That's all we got for now." He is staring at her but she is not going to complain. "The other cells haven't been cleaned up."

Michonne walks to the bed. It is still too dark to make out the particular details or colors of anything and she is thankful for that.

"Look, I got very little trust for you right now, alright?" He says. His voice takes that threatening quality that seems reserved to her only. "You're not giving me much to go on."

He lets that sentence hang in the air. Denying him an answer would probably cost her this cell and it is the thought of a bed that propels her to talk.

"The Governor is a sick man. You know that now but I knew it back then. I had to stop him." Michonne says as she carefully deposited her sword on the bed.

The silhouette of the man before her is alert; his shoulders are squared and tense and one of his hands lay close to his handgun. She would not blame him for being careful. Safety is never guaranteed, not anymore.

"Did you?" He asks and she knows he hopes her answer to be yes.

"No. I didn't." Michonne tries not to think of it, of Andrea looking at her like _she _was the psychopath. "I was interrupted. He's short of an eye though."

"Why?" His voice is hoarse with exhaustion but curiosity and caution keep him there. "Did he ever do something to you?"

"Took my weapon and made me believe I was free."

"We took your weapon too."

"Yeah, but your group doesn't kill innocents for their resources. Woodbury is powered like that. That's how they managed to keep it safe. Where do you think his guns and tanks come from?"

"It doesn't make sense. We had nothing to give to him. Glenn and Maggie had nothing to give to him."

"You do. You got this prison."

She watches him breathe in the realization.

"This place is a hole." He pleads. "It's dirty, it's not like that town of his."

"It's a fortress. It's perfect for him. That's what he wants. And there is bound to be an armoury somewhere around." She pauses to let out a small cough, a result of the cold, long walk they had taken. " You don't get it? He _has_ to find you."

"Fuck," Rick swears in one breath.

She has nothing comforting to say. These were the cold news but that man, the _leader_, had to be made aware of them and nobody else would tell him. She knows the Governor enough. He was coming.

Rick leaves her without any more words. The mattress feels hard on her back but she has slept on much worse. She pulls the blanket around her, tucking her sword next to her and falls into a much-welcomed sleep.

**He has not slept. **Carl lays close to him; eyes closed and peaceful like a child who had not seen all the death and sorrows they had all experienced. His own nightmares are populated with blood and images of Lori, looking like _them_ and calling to him with guttural moans that resonated long after he wakes up.

Daryl, the only one who could be of any help, is either gone or dead. Glenn is recovering. Maggie was too stricken. Carol can now handle a gun but she was not to be too trusted with it.

He cannot not deal with the new people either. His son is the only one left standing.

_There is her too_, he thinks as he rubs his eyes with the cold palms of his hands.

They are all still asleep when he reaches her cell but she herself is not. In the feeble light of the morning, he can see how filthy the place is. The bed is rusty and the cover is stained with God knows what. Something is rotting in the corner and the walls are spotted with blood like macabre wallpaper.

Michonne sits on the bed like she has been waiting for him and for a moment, he isn't sure what to say.

She isn't looking at him but at her sword, which she cleans using the crass blanket. Her fingers run along its blade carefully, as if she were caressing an infant. He watches and cannot help but think of Daryl and his crossbow.

"Good morning." He greets after a while.

"Good morning." She replies, still not looking at him. Her voice is quite but there is no trace of sleep in it.

"Slept well?"

"As well as any other night." She means it as a grim statement and he understands. Since this whole mess started, true sleep was never to be found. It had deserted them and now, nobody can remember what it was.

"Your name is Michonne, right?" He doesn't know why he needed the confirmation. He has no idea if this woman has any intention of remaining with them but he had always believed in nurturing relationships, however ephemeral they were to be.

Michonne nods while she scrapes some dried blood off the hilt.

"Our friend, Daryl," Rick decides to just dive in. "his brother was there with the Governor. His name is Merle."

"I remember that asshole. He was the Governor's lapdog. Has a blade for an arm and he isn't afraid to use it."

Images of Merle on the rooftop invaded his mind.

"Does that mean Daryl is safe?" He asked.

Michonne just laughs; it's barely audible but he feels his despair grow only larger.

"Nobody's safe with the Governor."

Rick walks up to her, a strange despair invading his senses. Her calmness is almost alluring and he needs her to lose it, just like he is about to do. He can't stand that unreadable façade, the dark eyes like locked doors, the total lack of fear. He is used to Lori, Carol, hell even Andrea. Not _her_.

"What do we do?" He asks, looking at Michonne like she held the solutions. There can only be one reason why she was so impassive.

Michonne finishes with a last swipe of blanket and puts her deadly sword back in its scabbard. Rick watches. She then raises her eyes and he is hit with that same feeling of endless unanswerable questions about that woman. She is assessing him and he wants, he _hopes_, to look less worried but he knows it would not change anything.

"I have unfinished business with him." She states and he understands it immediately.

"When do we do this?"

"As soon as today."

"Just the two of us?" Rick asks, knowing the answer. Nobody else was fit enough to accompany them. Michonne nods.

"They're going to be under surveillance mode. They'll kill us before we even reach them. How?"

Michonne is still undisturbed. He notices how her gaze never wavers. The hostility is still there, like a panther crouching behind the depth of her eyes, but it seems they have found a common enemy, a shared goal.

"He won't expect us. Not this early." Michonne says softly. "And once he's dead, Woodbury goes with him. These people only follow orders. They're like walkers' brains when it comes to acting on their own."

He chuckles at the expression although nothing is particularly funny about it. She doesn't look pleased, doesn't reciprocate. He hadn't expected her to either.

"Are you ready now?" He knows they must go early, get away from the prison and lead the others to safety. He cannot plan a murder with the others around.

"I'll be down soon." She replies.

He is about to leave the cell, wondering what language the two of them just spoke. They had just _known_ what to do and for that, he feels the need to add something. May be it is just that he is thankful for that strange connection, for her offering to help, although very implicitly.

"I'm sorry you had to sleep here. I forgot how dirty it was. We'll get you another place when we get back."

It implies too many things but Rick has no time to watch her reaction.

**So good? Bad? So horrible I should just abandon the prospect of continuing?**

**Sadly for those who think that the latter is an option, it actually isn't! I'm going through with this because I love Richonne, both in the show and in the comics. And since nobody else (as far as I know) is doing it, why not?**

**I need feedback nonetheless. I'm trying to keep these two in character you see, so I hope it's going well. Let me know!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm very pleased with the feedback you guys gave me. So here is a shoutout:**

**TeamxDixonne, deelove1, little, Dede324, Daryl Ann, puppery84, candy-man and Emberka-2012, Yyy, Marjorie Nescio and last, but not least, ****Tiffybsweetie, ****Guest and niklovr, whose reviews I absolutely loved reading!**

**Please, do continue to review. I feel like Richonne needs more love and I want to make it a thing.**

**Also, I ship Dixonne just as hard.**

The sky is the perfect shade of moody as they make their exit. She watches him as he says his goodbyes to his son and she is hit with the memory of her own daughters, gone. She wonders what would have happened, had they survived and yet, she would not wish this to be the world they grew up in. Rick's son has his father's stern expression and they both hug but it is too manly, too procedural.

The new people were judged to be trustworthy so Rick had put them with the others on guard duty. One of the women cried, begging Rick to bring that Daryl back and looking at her as if she held some sort of solution.

Michonne still doesn't know where the intense hatred for the Governor comes from but she cannot allow herself to walk this godforsaken world while he still lived. Men like him, heartless survivalists, disgusted her.

He drives and they are silent. She plays with her sword, tapping its hilt against the floor of the car. There is no radio and no one outside either. The only sounds come from her sword. Yesterday's scars still hurt but she just has to remember who caused them and the pain suddenly seems inconsequential.

"You're from Atlanta?" He asks, keeping his eyes on the road. There is a lone walker, far away, whose head turns at the engine's passage.

"No." She feels awkward in the confined space of the car. She hasn't been in one for quite a while and it unnerves her for no particular reason. "You?"

"I'm from some small town in Georgia so you probably wouldn't have heard of it." He answers.

Michonne details him with her eyes, surprising herself in admitting that he possessed an agreeable face. The few men she had encountered after the apocalypse had all inspired a strong distrust. She needs only to think of Merle or the Governor, how she could have smelled their dishonesty a mile away with their smug smiles. This man on the other hand did not rouse her suspicion. For some unknown reason, his frown is not that of a man who hides secrets but of one who has seen too much to trust easily. She sympathizes with that and she knows she makes an antagonistic addition to their group.

"Cities are deadlier than small towns." She remarks, focusing her eyes on the scenery once more.

"That's why all the survivors are on the outside." Rick says. "I just assumed Atlanta…it's the closest city to here. At least, I think. We haven't looked at a map for a while."

"I've been to the outskirts. Nothing good grows in there anymore."

He agrees with a nod.

"Why did you leave your town?" She finds herself asking. It is a sheer curiosity and nothing more.

He seems unsure as to what to say so she pretends like she isn't really looking forward to an answer. Her hand presses the button so that the window can open. A warm gush of air flows in filled with the smell of fields and nothingness. The sound of the car resonates louder and it comforts her. Machinery had become a stranger, something she beheld with a vague nostalgia. It reminded her of how great they used to be.

"I had to find my wife and son." Rick offers. His hands tighten around the steering wheel.

She supposes that he did but she doesn't think that the woman with the cropped hair could be his wife. She tells herself that none of it is her business anyway, that as soon as her business with the Governor was over, she will not need to remember any of this information.

Michonne doesn't press the questions so she grabs her katana and keeps a watchful eye for anything that may seem unusual as the car approaches the woods. She thinks he is also disinclined to keep this forced conversation going but he surprises her by saying something that she does not expect.

"I lost her to walkers in that jail." He states hoarsely. "It ain't fair but it's why I can't let go of that place. I've lost people to it. We spilled blood and it won't be for nothing."

She understands but also feels a rush of compassion for this man. He is broken beyond repair but so was everyone else. She thinks of telling him about her daughters, about how she had to slaughter them by her own hands but she hates to parade her own suffering. He deserves to feel his pain to be the worst before he can get over it.

**The edge of the wood is unwelcoming**. It is the thought of what lies behind them that renders them as hostile as Woodbury's walls. It was not yet midday and he is aware that they can't hope for the woods to be deserted.

"How do we go about it?" He asks her.

The woman stands strong despite her injuries. Her look is one of determination and she holds her sword, unsheathed and ready for any eventual attack. It would have made him wary a few days ago but he seems to have found a tentative trust for her.

Rick doesn't have a choice anyway. Michonne has already led him there. She has warned him about Glenn even when she could have remained silent.

This was a new kind of situation for him and he doesn't find it disagreeable. He is used to being the leader, had even fought for that title with Shane. His people had survived because Rick knows himself to be able. Yet, he has no difficulty allowing Michonne to dictate the plan. For one, he does not know enough to suggest anything. Woodbury was still a mystery to him, having intruded the place at night and in chaos of gunshots and smoke. Secondly, he finds himself agreeing with Michonne more than he would have with anyone else.

"They keep walkers in a courtyard on the western side. I've been there once and it's empty. Someone comes to feed them during the day but I'm pretty sure nothing happens there at night." Michonne explains as she crouches down on the ground. Her finger traces a rectangle on the dirt in an attempt to provide a visual picture of the location. Rick approaches her and also crouches. "From what I saw, we can climb the wall with the rope we got. We just need to make sure we're at the right place and for that, we have to use daylight."

"They'll be in the woods, that's certain. There is no way they are not patrolling around." Rick says.

"We kill them." Michonne replies, looking straight at him.

It is a cruel statement but they were talking about a cruel man. He nods.

The car is parked. They take out the equipment and Rick takes out the guns. He cannot carry all of them and it would be pointless to anyway. Silently, he hands her a long gun. Michonne regards it with an expression akin to repugnance.

"I don't do guns." She tells him.

"You can't survive with your sword only." He presses, pushing the gun on top of her hand. He feels her skin against his, only a small section, but it causes him to quickly retrieve his hand. Thankfully, she doesn't say anything but accepts the weapon.

He notices that she keeps the sword in her hand anyway but slings the gun on her back.

The woods are quieter than usual but it is no good sign. Rick wants to believe that their last excursion had steered the walkers away towards the uninhabited shack of that dead redneck.

Silence becomes even more of a necessity and both of them don't find it hard to comply.

Thirty minutes into the woods and he discerns a group of walkers. There are five of them, unnaturally huddled together. There are two females and three males, all grunting at the smell of flesh. He nudges Michonne and she turns to him, katana already deployed in front of her.

"I'll take care of them." Michonne whispers but he grabs her arm because he simply cannot allow that.

"I've got a silencer." His words come out rather too brusquely. His hand unhooks his revolver but before he can shoot anything, Michonne positions herself in front.

"We'll be losing ammo and we'll need this silencer once we get in there." She states calmly. "Let me take care of them."

Before he can give an answer, she leaps forward to await the small horde. He walks to stand next to her, taking out his long gun to use its butt as a weapon.

He had seen skills from many of his group. Glenn has gotten good at whacking skulls and Daryl has an incredible sense of aiming. His own son impresses him with his use of guns and Andrea had been a great shot before the invasion had lost them to her.

Michonne however…it really comes close to making no sense.

He has seen guns mostly, then axes and sticks or long knives but swords? Never.

She adopts an offensive stance, legs bent and katana held with two hands in front of her. The first walker to reach her loses its head in one swift moment. There is no resistance from the rotten flesh and corrupt bones and he wonders how much strength and power this woman really possesses. He advances with her but she barely allows him space to contribute.

The second walker to reach her receives the blade directly in its right eye. She pulls it out before slashing at its neck. Michonne kicks it out of her way before cutting another one's head. It falls at Rick's feet in a dull sound; there is blood splattered on his already damaged shoes. He can't do anything but watch as she physically pushes the last two walkers so that they stand aside before halving them together with a powerful slash of her sword. The bodies fall apart sinisterly, each half sliding down with the disgusting sound of spilling guts.

She pauses to make sure he is all right as if she hadn't been the one fighting off five walkers with a single sword. He has nothing to say because he is too shocked to produce a sentence. Michonne isn't even breathless. She wipes the blood splatter on her dark skin with her arms then continues her walk.

He can get used to this and he is surprised that he had not been hit by fear at all. It is a relief to not have to worry for the safety of someone. Rick has been doing too much of that for Lori, Carl, Hershel, Glenn…Even Daryl. But this woman…he can see she is invincible.

**The walls of Woodbury reveal themselves in the distance, drawing a line continuous in between tree trunks. **That is when they hear the distant sounds of patrols. For now, they are not at any immediate risk of being found out but Michonne suspected that these men were heading towards them.

It seemed to be close around midday and they had not been lucky weather-wise. The sun stood high and almighty, having no intention of collaborating with them.

"If we kill them, there'll be bodies." Rick says to her, referencing her earlier statement. "Then, we'll be found out."

Michonne admits inwardly that he is right but she doesn't say anything. If that bastard Merle came upon her way, she would ask no question, waste no moment.

"I think there's only one group." She guesses. "He isn't stupid enough to send all of his men and he doesn't have as many anymore."

"Whoever he sent out, they're still ready for the kill." He answers, looking back at her with an expression of resignation. "We've steered towards the east. How big is Woodbury?"

"Why?"

"If we try to go west right now, we might end up meeting them. That's where their voices come from."

She listens carefully and admits that he is right again. Luckily, during her time in Woodbury, Michonne had been extremely attentive to the town. She could not have helped it anyway. The place was an odd thing, unbelievable, like falling through a rabbit hole and finding oneself in an alternate universe. She had walked around surveying every building, every house trying to find a loophole, anything wrong. Woodbury was not a large town or else, it could not have prospered. She concludes that they can contour it from the eastern side.

"I agree." She tells him.

"It'll take more walking. Like we haven't done enough of that already." He smiles to her even though he knows it's not anymore encouraging. It's contagious for some reason that escapes her and she feels a smile stretching upon her own lips.

She is about to resume the walking when his hand once more grabs her arm. It's getting on her nerves, this habit of his. After the Governor, she'll be damned if any other man puts his hands on her. The gesture still resonates as an act of control and she is almost conditioned to rebel against any form of it.

Yet, when she meets his eyes, her retort gets stuck in her throat. She raises an eyebrow, puzzled to receive a look that denoted so much trust.

"No matter what, we stick together." Rick declares and his light eyes are filled with determination. An odd feeling rises in her, the same one she had gotten when she had first found Andrea.

"I promise." Michonne answers.

**So I'm moving slowly with this. I don't like when things escalate quickly in fics. I think those two need some time to get used to each other. Real action is up in next chapter. Again, I am so grateful for all the reviews! It makes me so happy to see that there are many Richonne fans out there too!**

**Shout out to us for being so awesome!**

**(Also, keep reviewing hehehe)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all for the reviews! Thank you so much. It seems that this fic has gotten a good following. I'm perfectly flattered and thus, I give you this.**

**P.S: Anybody thinking that the scenario of my fic closely resembles the events of the latest episode? Just saying… I love when I can predict things hahaha**

**And that moment with the bullet and them just looking at each other, and Carl being totally awkward because there is too much sexual tension in the air! SIGHHHHH**

**Shout-out list because you guys totally deserve it:**

**Solareon, WTFdoUwantNOW, deelove1, Emberka-2012, niklovr, starkqueen, Toni Michelle, guest (yes, I think that she had two daughters if my memory doesn't fail me. Read the comics, you'll love them!), little, Avegadros, saku-lee, Tiffybsweetie, Stevie'SGir, MsTwix, Kelsey, beautifulcurare, richonnebaby, Guest, Just Call Me a Dreamer, Guest (thank you for featuring my fic!), Llioncourt30, loconation, Thefilmdirector2013 (thanks for your two reviews!), Guest, Guest, Nat and Lady Adyrag!**

They don't know the time but the relentless sun doesn't seem to want to set. It still looms above as they reach the western walls of Woodbury. The trees are thankfully dense in the area but they can see the fence of that bizarre backyard. There are walkers caged, a fresh provision of them since Michonne had killed the last ones.

They crouch behind a particularly large tree. It seems deserted but in the distance, that patrol is very much out there. Dogs are barking incessantly. Michonne hopes the walkers' blood might be enough to confuse their scent.

"The fence isn't too high here," She points out. "Courtyard serves as a double wall and there is only one door. That's our challenge right there."

"It'll be locked well, especially after our attack." Rick concludes grimly. "When do they feed them?"

"I can't say. They never handle those things during the night but we might have missed it."

They both observe the place as if they expect someone to come out in a turn of providential fate. No such thing happens and Michonne begins to see the flaw in her plan. It frustrates her and Rick's silence only intensifies it.

"We have to wait till night anyway." She offers. "It's too risky climbing during the day. They might see through the windows. Some of the guards have binoculars."

Seeing no other solution, they decide to approach the fence and wait there. Her leg hurts; there's a dull incessant throbbing on her calf that she can't quite ignore. She is thankful for the forced break. She leans against a trunk to sit, the movement causing an involuntary hiss to escape her lips.

Rick gives her a look she can't decipher. Her hand itches to remove the bandage, just to see the state of things but she would hate to do it in front of that man. It isn't the time for weakness.

He crouches next to her and she catches a whiff of his smell. He is as sweaty as she is but he emanates something else, something primal. It's what the apocalypse does, Michonne thinks. It reverts them to unexplored states; they are so fundamentally different. They look and smell different. Soon, they'll forget what soaps and perfumes are and sweat will begin to smell good because it's a sign of live. It's a sign that they are not like _them_.

"Your leg still hurts?" Rick asks in a whisper.

"No."

"There is no point continuing if it does. You better just say it."

"I said no." She replies vehemently.

He stares at her. She stares back.

"I'm just thinking of your own good here." Rick says, still looking straight into her eyes. "I don't want no collapsing in the middle of this operation. I can carry you but I can't take you over this fence if it comes to it. You'd be stuck inside and this time, they'll kill you."

"I don't want you to carry me anywhere." She retorts a little forcefully. She isn't going to be a burden to anybody, least of all this alpha here. It's clear as day that it's common interest that's fuelling this operation and as soon as she ceases to fulfill her part of the deal, she is as good as useless. She won't have him go out of his way to save her. It's too much debt to owe and Lord knows she has had enough of that with the governor.

"Let me take a look at it anyway." He asks gently so as not to scare her away. Rick is beginning to understand her workings. Just beginning.

"I said I'm fine."

"Look, we have time to kill alright? Least I can do is take a look." He insists.

Her eyes seem to say so much and it's like he can barely hold their gaze. There is the hesitant trust, this time fully displayed, and frustration, resignation…She oddly reminds him of Daryl, when they had first encountered him. He had been a savage creature, an outsider and he remembers how hard it was to make him talk. It still is.

Michonne nods almost imperceptibly and turns her chin away towards the courtyard. Rick is somewhat thankful for that.

He instinctually knows it's the right leg just from the way she keeps it stretched on the muddy ground. His hands fumble with the bottom of her pants before pulling it up. It's hard to avoid touching her skin and it's something he feels he has to do. They're still strangers to each other.

When he removes the bandage, he sees it. It's like a hole in her flesh, tender like the wet ground underneath them. For a second, he is frozen.

He shouldn't have allowed her to come.

The wound is too deep and he is shocked that she even managed to make it so far without even showing any sign of pain. His fingers hover above it, afraid to touch and cause this woman to glare.

"You…you came up with this plan." He sounds incoherent. Michonne still doesn't look at him. "We could have waited. Or I could have taken Glenn."

"You know you're wrong." Michonne answers. "He is in a worse state than mine. And your group can't afford to wait. He is coming."

"This is madness." He mutters under his breath as his hands rearrange the bandages.

_This woman_… He wishes she could talk more so he can know what's going on inside her head. What is driving her to do this? She hates the man. That, he knows. But why?

He has no other choice to do this. He has his group and Daryl to think of. That's all he has left…

Then, it somehow makes sense. _She has nothing left_.

She is alone. They found her alone. She has nobody, no group, no kin, and no friend. Rick had always been driven by something, even when everything seemed so bleak. But he found Lori and Carl because of that drive. Back then, it was a desperate man's lifeline but it took him through. Now he has people with him and the goddamn horror seems almost bearable.

This is her purpose.

Daylight expires slowly, like a man's dying breath and the sky becomes a translucent shade of purple. The patrol has long gone away, probably back to the confines of Woodbury. The lights of the town look strange; Rick has not seen any city illuminated since he woke up from his coma. It's uncanny to hear distant conversations and laughs, sometimes a baby crying; there is even music. The forest behind them suddenly seems so threatening; its darkness and silence almost pushes them towards Woodbury. Walls. People need walls.

The rope proves to be strong enough. Michonne goes first despite his protests. She climbs agilely and lands noiselessly on the other side. They nod at each other through the fence, and he is reminded of the first time he saw her back at the prison.

Paranoia makes his heart wild. In the morning, their plan had appeared easy. Get in, kill, get out.

Now, there is a door they may not be able to open.

She helps him down unasked and he reluctantly takes her arm to deaden his fall. When they get to the door, it's surprisingly open.

They can't believe it. Michonne's first instinct is to draw out her sword.

"You think it's a trap?" Rick asks her in one breath. She can feel his anxiety but she isn't sure.

"I don't know." She replies. The door reveals nothing but darkness, pitch-black and uninviting. It doesn't seem like there could be a living town lying behind it. Her memory of the place is foggy. She knows that this building is mostly empty. Nobody resided too close to the walkers. But there was something that kept the Governor coming back here, something she hadn't figured out then.

"Might be they forgot." Michonne offers. "This is the hidden side of Woodbury and they might think your group has retreated for the day."

She doesn't say 'we' because she is not part of them.

Rick sticks his head in to assess the situation.

"I think this is where they put the prisoners." Michonne says in a moment of realization. It makes sense that he would choose the remotest building. It's why the walkers are kept close and it also explains his visits to this place.

"We can't afford to lose time." Rick states, looking towards her. Michonne can't see his eyes but she imagines well the determination in them. Every minute she spends with him, she senses a strange kind of bond meandering its way between them. His stubbornness, she can almost accept. She can't say the same for most people. Michonne is used to doing exactly what she sees fit but there is a lot of logic in that man's reasoning.

He was right; she has taken a risk with her leg. She feels it now in the increasing pain but she'll die before admitting it.

"We save Daryl first. That's the priority." His tone bodes no change of mind. He is right; they might need a third hand if they are to murder the governor.

"Fine by me."

She walks inside, her sword pointed straight in front. Rick follows behind her, suddenly very close due to the corridor's restraining walls. Michonne tries to remember the last time she has been this close to a man without trying to kill him. Occasionally, his chest collapses on her back.

There is a light at the end of the corridor but she slows her pace nonetheless. Light meant people, presence.

"Together." Rick whispers very close to her ear. His breath is febrile and warm, brushing under her earlobe. It's not so much of a command as it is a reminder. _He still doesn't trust me_.

Michonne nods before realizing that he probably can't see.

"I gave my word already."

Whatever or whoever was at the end of the corridor would either kill them or die trying.

**Another update! Now, I know I'm not very regular but I shall try to be. The latest episode has given me A LOT of Richonne feels. It's fuelling me. That and your wonderful reviews. I am happy that you are enjoying this. As I have said, I'm moving slowly with this because both Rick and Michonne are not the trusty types. So, it'll take time. Add Daryl to the lot (he'll be around next chapter) and we'll see what happens ;-)**

**Also, let me know if I am taking too much time with the action. I know bonding scenes are important but the physical stuff is actually going to be worth it.**

**All in all, I love you readers! If I have forgotten one of you in the shout-out, I am sorry. Let me know, and I'll rectify that!**

**Be kind and review.**

**I love reviews as much as Daryl loves his crossbow hehehe.**


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